29. Chapter 29
Mal
“W hat do you think is taking so long?” Alex asks, leaning back and crossing his legs. He swings one lightly.
Dixon shrugs, his attention on Niko, who’s chatting with our coworker Teddy—a true teddy bear of a man—about a scene they’re doing later today after our team meeting.
I still need to talk to Jerome. I haven’t decided what I want to do about my job here.
On one hand, I know I can’t rely on the money in my bank account to last forever.
It might not even last a year. Who knows what additional costs I could incur with my mother’s living arrangements?
What if she has sudden medical bills? What if she needs more round-the-clock care?
Realistically, I know I should go back to work. Not sit idly by while my funds dwindle.
But…
Henrik.
I’m not ready to write him off.
I’ve been rolling everything over in my mind all weekend, and there are too many factors that don’t add up.
I want to believe Henrik felt more for me—that he feels even a fraction of what I feel for him—and so many things support that hypothesis.
Like the hurt behind his anger. His actions over the past month.
The feeling in my gut that tells me not to give up.
But then I hear the way he said my name— Adam —as if I were a complete and utter stranger to him, and that icy shard pierces again, the same as it did that night. I could barely stand the disappointment I heard in his voice.
There’s also the fact that Henrik terminated our contract. He kicked me to the curb. That should be a pretty clear indicator that the man is through with me.
Except…he keeps calling. Keeps texting. As if he’s not done with me, either.
I know the only way forward is to talk to Henrik—that’s a given—but I wasn’t ready before. I needed time to figure out where I was at. Time to mentally tally what my priorities were and what I was willing to part with.
I have those answers now.
But until I sort everything out with Henrik, I don’t think I can talk to Jerome about my position here, despite the fact that I’m at today’s meeting. I can’t ask for my job back until I know . Because if Henrik and I have a chance at repair, I won’t break his number-one rule. Exclusivity.
I don’t even want to—that’s the rub. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want to go back to porn or escorting or my webcam. I don’t want to be treated as a commodity to be bought and sold.
Henrik made me feel like more . Like I was important. Despite his callous words the other night, he made me feel appreciated above my body’s worth. I refuse to believe that was fake.
I know what desire is. What base want is—fulfilling a sexual urge without emotional attachments. I’ve been on the receiving end of that plenty in my line of work. And I know the difference between that and mechanical sex. Going through the motions.
Like I had been doing for years.
But I’d never, until Henrik, felt a third option. I’d never felt a true, intimate connection with another person that left me wanting more of them once the condom had been trashed. I’d never felt loved . I’d never loved.
Maybe I truly am naive. Maybe Henrik never felt that way, and he really has discarded me. Maybe he’ll move on to a new escort, and I’ll simply have to move on . I might not have a choice but to pick up and reassemble the pieces of my life as it was.
But I won’t know for sure until I talk to him. Today. I’ll make sure we speak today, as soon as this meeting is over.
Alex sighs from beside me, and when I look over his way, I catch him eyeing the bagels on the buffet table longingly. My lips twitch in amusement.
“If Jerome comes back and you’re chewing, it’ll be a dead giveaway,” I point out.
Alex pouts. “Yeah. Well, he better hurry up. I haven’t had a carb in days . And he left us all hanging.” He fans his hand indistinctly around the room. “Doesn’t he know it’s not polite to edge your own employees—”
The door to Studio 1 opens, and Alex’s irritating musings cut off, along with the buzzing chitchat of our coworkers. But it’s not Jerome that steps through the door. It’s Nathaniel, and at his heels are Benji…and Henrik .
My jaw about hits the floor.
“Oh, damn,” Alex whispers, perking up and shooting me a sideways glance.
I barely pay him any mind, too enraptured by the sudden appearance of the very man I’d been thinking of a moment prior. The man I’d been gearing up to have a conversation with.
He’s wearing a charcoal-colored suit that makes him look impeccably distinguished, his hair is combed neatly, and every piece of the man—from his Windsor-knotted tie to his brogue Oxford dress shoes—is exactly as I remember.
But it’s his eyes, red-rimmed and worried, that have me leaning forward, nearly catapulting from my seat in order to race into his arms and offer comfort.
I want to wipe that miserable expression off his face.
Yet I hold back, unsure if that attention would actually be welcome. Unsure of so many things.
Licking my lips, I grip the edge of my chair tight. “Henrik?”
Immediately, his head turns my way—as does nearly every head in the room—and the wary pinch of his eyes smooths out into immense relief.
The tension in his frame drops as he exhales deeply, and he relinquishes his hold on Benji’s arm, taking a single small step forward.
His cane is collapsed, held in his hand, so he doesn’t go any further.
Instinct is urging me to go to him, but I stay put.
“Mal,” Henrik says tentatively.
The room remains politely quiet, but from the confused faces around me, I can tell no one knows what to think of the mystery man. Only Alex, Dixon, and Niko know who he is to me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, voice trembling.
Henrik twists his cane in his grip, a nervous gesture. “I had to see you.”
His words sound pained, and my eyes flick to Niko, who gives me an encouraging smile.
Eyes back on Henrik, I ask, “You did?”
My fingers strain with tension as I white-knuckle the metal folding chair beneath my thighs, my emotions warring. Part of me wants to launch myself at him already. To feel his soothing hands running along my back, twisting in my hair, cupping my neck and my cheeks.
And the other part of me… The other part is waiting for the cleaver to drop, sure Henrik is only here to sever ties in person.
But he wouldn’t do that, would he? Apart from the glimpse of the man I witnessed the other night, my Henrik was never cruel. Never mean for the sake of it. And even though I want to be angry for the things he said and for the way he said them, the truth is I’m not angry, and I never was.
I was only sad. Dejected.
Alex said I’m worth more than being treated carelessly, like a penny tossed into the gutter, and he’s right. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a piece of the puzzle I’m missing. And I desperately wish that to be true.
It’s why I never gave up hope. Not completely.
Henrik takes another miniscule step forward, and my fingers tighten painfully against my chair. “I did.” He twists the cane again and clears his throat. “Before I begin, may I ask how many people are about to witness my groveling?”
My breath catches, and my heart kicks up a heavy beat inside my chest, unseating that hopeful flutter from its cage. It takes flight. “You’re here to grovel?”
“Yes,” he says plainly, verdant eyes set in determination.
“There are about thirty of us,” Dixon pipes up, his arms crossed in front of his chest. It’s clear he hasn’t quite thawed to Henrik after this past weekend.
“And we’re all on Mal’s side,” Niko adds, even though he sends me a wink and a thumbs up.
“Well, fuck,” Henrik mutters.
At that, the room erupts into chuckles, the tension breaking. Even Benji’s concerned face splits into a wry smile from his spot a few feet behind Henrik.
“Hey, Daddy Henrik,” Alex calls out, earning a swat on the arm from Niko. Alex’s grin tells me he’s not the least bit sorry.
Henrik shakes his head slightly, but his only retort is responding, “Hello, Alex. Nice to hear you.”
“Just so you know,” Alex says, “I’m not afraid to punch a blind guy. Although I’d warn you first.”
I gape as Henrik nods. “I’d deserve it.”
Alex looks pleased with that answer, his leg swinging once more.
“What the hell is going on?” Bill, one of the cameramen, finally asks.
“I fucked up,” Henrik says.
“Well, no shit,” Marco, our boom operator, calls out. The room erupts into laughter, and Henrik’s lip twists at the corner, the saddest little smirk I’ve ever seen.
“Henrik, you don’t have to do this here,” I interject. Because even though I want to hear what he has to say, I don’t need him to do it in front of my coworkers.
But Henrik shakes his head. “No, I do,” he replies, standing a little taller, his cane at his side. “You see, there’s this guy, and I like him. A hell of a lot. But I never told him that.”
My pulse thrums wildly, those butterfly wings flapping against my ribcage.
“He didn’t know how I felt because I was coming to terms with it myself,” Henrik says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “And instead of owning up to my feelings like an adult, I hesitated.”
“Why?” Dixon asks, earning a few nods from the others.
“Because I was scared,” Henrik replies, causing my chest to squeeze tight. “I’d never felt that way about anyone before. In fact, I tried really damn hard not to feel that way about anyone before. But this guy…”
“Malibu,” Marco calls out.
“Mal,” Henrik confirms with a nod. “He’s different.”
I can’t take it anymore. I push out of my seat and weave my way to Henrik on shaky legs.
His head raises as I approach, and when I reach out, my fingertips brushing Henrik’s arm, he latches on like a reflex.
The first touch is sweet relief, electrifying.
And the way Henrik’s fingers curl around my bicep, the way he inhales sharply as he steps into my space, feels like coming home.